The Journalist’s Lies

“The rules are simple: they lie to us, we know they're lying, they know we know they're lying, but they keep lying to us, and we keep pretending to believe them.”

 ― Elena Gorokhova, A Mountain of Crumbs



Lions brawn teeth hair fierce mane
Death silent sentient salient insane

First a scratch on marble, neglected
It widens, all see it, neglect it
Blood oozes pus, we gonna let it

What's a little Fib to evil? 
One starts the rise to new levels
Then one again before in shovels
It leaps to hell totally disheveled

2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21
Fibs eat laxity with no laxatives on
34 climbing up to 4-1-8-1
Eyes turn away; what's a little Fib growing? 
We'll find a way even when Truth's gone. 

Lions brawn teeth hair fierce mane
No courage to face pain to heal game
It's not all false, it's not all bane
So let's pretend everything here is sane
Let's let evil remodel and set its reign
Death silent sentient salient insane

(c) nyonglema




Fair or Real, choose wisely

 
Real isn't reeled anymore out the tube. 
It was rolled up before as snippets of the world, but with CGI
Nothing is as it was. 
What should I believe? What should you believe? 
Man saw the void and with words and steel
Said let there be light, and so it was, and night was day
And day was day, there was neither evening nor day. 
Then they flooded pieces of land, and dried up seas
And tweaked the plants, and fiddled with DNA, 
Spawning animals new and weird. Still no day. 
And then they set about to make man
And woman 
According to the images of the Vogue 2008 summer edition.
They looked on and saw it was good. 
And rushed to teach our children: 
             1 + 1 depends on what your 1 means
             A cell depends on what you want it to mean 
             An electron is whatever of those particles you choose
             And Kirchoff's nodal law is even applicable to voltage
             And your nationality depends on your heart's choice
             And a mountain is an upside-down valley 
And there still wasn't any day. 
Men became women, women became men, and monkeys
Said they'd rather be called humanoid, or else! 
The bonobos said they were descendants of wolves
While those who stayed off the green screen tried to say: 
"If you jump of a 10-storey building, you will die". 
But who is to believe them? 
The green screen made Thanos! 

(c) nyonglema
             
             


While there's a war on truth, now they add a threat to competition? 
The solution to a special woman dominating sport is to suppress her? 
It's unfair what they are doing to
Caster Semenya, a woman,
meanwhile transgender women are allowed to participate with 
"advantaged" bone and muscle structure from their DNA, even with
lower testosterone. Men remain on par with men even
after sex change,
which puts them at an advantage
over women. 


Headlines deaths #fakeNews

The sun went for a walk

Is the summary for an essay on the movement of the sun in the galaxy.

War was declared

Is the summary for an article on the war against weeds in granny’s farms.

Your son failed

Hides the fact that he passed ten subjects and failed the one, just one.

John hates Christians

Is a research article on why John hates Christians who wear weaves on their faith

Free snacks here

Is the sign at the boisterous shop where the cheap snacks are honest and the rest need cash

President pardon

Doesn’t even make sense, and you stare at the underlined blue text then swipe left.

(c) nyonglema

Another type of love #politics

They said they loved us.
They said what had hovelled us this long
Would melt in the ideas they’d put to physical form, fixing the forms, printing new laws to make more feasible new morns where dreams grow, where the beams of oppression become beaming faces facing greatness in all facets of a society phasing out the old, and phrasing in the new, and enacting, and without feigning bringing hope and growth anew.

They said we’d love it.
They said the picture would be bling
To the point of our dreams’ Everests, that they’ll brave the storms of whether to go with the hot or the cold, with the dry or with mould, or the new or the old, or whatever internal or from other holds could chip at our wishes, that they’d protect us, shield us in a new shell more robust than the previous, and keep our homes, culture, and aspirations safe anew.

They said they loved us.
The said we’d love it,
And this they said in words we’d listen to and miss the meaning shrouded like a zombie’s soul within idioms and colourful slogans painting derelict walls of our city gloom, and filling the air of family time with promises of Utopia today, Utopia tomorrow after Hell yesterday, and trickling out as if not premeditated and making us believe in Canterbury tales anew.

But now they hate us,
And hey! We don’t love it,
This stagnation like mosquito larvae infested ponds leaking putrefaction to our already putrefied systems, with corruption and stealing…no… embezzling being the order of the day, and deleting competition or young petitions to fix the predicament with silent words halted by violent wars. This stagnation so old we’ve lived that it even starts to feel like new.

Oh how they hate us
And hate that we don’t love it,
For to lord it over us longer they need us to be coy, kowtow, and shut up like Guantanamo torture secrets or that moment in a gory movie you are caught up between darkness and the bloodied blade and to speak your mind would Soweto you and your family in one instant, and depending on the riches you had, it will be featured, or not, on the news.

Oh how they hate us,
And how we wish we could change this
Situation with feeble will to exchange our lives with joy in the future generations as others before bothered to, feeble strength we are deluded to have whereas Gandhi taught us all by shooting up the opposition with words and Christ-like pain affliction and acceptance.
(c) Nyonglema